I still dream of you sometimes…

The great hills in your green eyes as you took in my figure like you saw what I could not.

Each stroke a testament to love's embrace, A bittersweet masterpiece painted upon my face.

Your gentle nature and the way it flowed through your fingertips, from a pen to a brush, to my skin. Akin to nature's grace, in its rhythm divine.

You're gone now but I still feel you watching me, your soft breath against my face as I sleep.

Your illusory presence, in my thoughts, do creep, As I lay in solitude, in sorrow's keep.

I've cried for you many times but that night I wept like a widow in the dark sheets.

Your silhouette stares at me from the wall across our bed but now, but I lay on the floor. You no longer move to lay me to bed you just stare a ghostly glare.
No more warm skin, no more sweet vows just spectral figures and still air.